The Daughter of Hades
by MomoMouat97
Summary: Nico is all alone in the world. All he has is ghosts for company. At least, until a girl shows up, holding off a horde of angry monsters and saves his sorry butt. There's something oddly familiar about this girl as well. She reminds him of Bianca, and he can't think why. Set in my The Ghost King and the Princess of Darkness book, don't need to read to understand. Set in BoL.


**Well, this is something different. I have honestly never written from a boy's first person point of view before this, and I hope it turned out decent. Tell me what you think about it, if you'd like. Love from, Momo.**

Being a child of the Underworld – even a fairly recently discovered one like myself – you'd like to think that nothing could surprise me anymore. I'd been to the Underworld. I'd seen death. Hell, I _felt _death. You couldn't get much more intense than that. My heart clenched painfully at the reminder of how I knew Bian… _she _wasn't coming back. It was too painful to think about it.

But I guess I was wrong, because what happened that day was anything but expected.

I sat cross legged on the ground in the clearing that I had proclaimed mine for today and tonight, if I hadn't been attacked by then that was. All around me were huge oak trees, blocking out the light from the late afternoon sun, which I was grateful for. Ever since I had run away from Camp, my appearance had changed. Drastically. My once tan skin had seemingly melted away, and although it probably had only been half a dozen months since I ran away, my skin looked like it hadn't seen sunlight in _years_. Decades, maybe. I'd traded my orange shirt for a stolen black one with a grim looking skull on it weeks ago, and my jean shorts for shredded black skinny jeans, which only made my skin look even paler, I was sure.

Did I care? Nah. The only people I saw nowadays were the dead anyway, and they tended to get annoyed with me if I was wearing a different color than black. Someone out there might mistake my wardrobe choice for me being Emo or Goth, but really I just wore black for respect reasons. If you were going to a funeral, you wouldn't wear that bright pink shirt from Macy's, would you? No, you'd be wearing black. And since the dead found me on a daily basis, I liked to always be ready for them, hence the black.

Confused? That's alright. Welcome to my life.

It was turning out to be a pretty boring, lonely day again, and I was tapping my foot impatiently, wanting the sun to set faster. Once the sun went down, the ghosts could come out, and I could have some company. No matter how sad or terrible the company, company is company, and when you're all alone like I was, you eagerly grasp at anything the Fates throw in your direction, harmful or not.

Then I heard it. A long, drawn out scream of fear, coming from somewhere in front of me, through the forest. I instantly jumped to my feet, my fingers scraping on the hilt of my sword as I pulled it out of its sheath, holding it up in front of my body for protection. My eyes scanned the woods nervously, darting from side to side. I could hear sounds of a struggle ahead, and that same voice screamed out again, piercing the air and my ears. Wincing, I surged forward, wielding the weapon that made all dead shrink before me. Whatever was up there, it was bad.

I shoved branches and leaves and other forest detritus out of my way impatiently, my legs pumping and my heart racing. I could hear the screams up ahead, growing in intensity and desperation, and I put on a fresh burst of speed. Suddenly, the forest cover broke, and I burst into another clearing, similar to mine.

"Get away from me!" a girl with long, ragged black hair screamed, her hands raised high in the air above her head. My eyes lingered on her a moment, taking in what I could, which wasn't much, as she had her back to me. In front of her, she seemed to be holding off five of six _dracaena,_ but how she was doing it without even holding a sword, I had no idea. I stepped forward, about to jump into the fray to help, when she seemed to sense my presence.

She spun around, her dark eyes wild. I was mesmerized by them in an instant, subconsciously recognizing her. I had no idea who she was, or if she was good or evil, but I knew her from somewhere. Quickly, I scanned her face into my memory, noting her prominent cheekbones and pale, sallow flesh, made even paler by her dark hair and eyes. She looked as though she had been living wild for at least a week, maybe longer. Twigs were tangled in her hair, and she had a bloody lip. But she still looked powerful to me, and something in my mind tugged at me.

My multitasking, ADHD mind took in her clothes at the same time, noting the hunting boots and leather jacket with approval. This girl knew how it went, obviously. To go with them, she wore black leggings that probably had seen better days, paired with a faded grey plain t-shirt. Her wrists and neck, as well as her ears were bare, as if she didn't have time to deal with girly things. I couldn't agree more with her.

Unfortunately, me distracting her caused her to lose her concentration, and the _dracaena_ instantly surged forward, wielding tridents and huge grins. With a cry, I shoved the girl roughly behind me, probably pushing her to the ground in the process. I engaged the monsters, parrying and stabbing at any openings I could. I took down one after another, before one managed to get in a lucky shot with a trident, and knocked my sword out of my hands, and me to the ground.

The girl behind me screamed, "No!" clapping her hands together loudly as the _dracaena _grinned, raising her trident as if to stab me. Suddenly, the ground beneath me began to shake, rolling up and down like the ocean on a bad day. I yelled out in fright, scrambling backward as a huge hole opened up under the monsters, sucking them in. As I watched in disbelief, the wailing monsters were sealed inside, falling to their doom down in the Underworld. I knew the exact moment they ceased to be.

I turned to look at the girl behind me. She stood panting, eyes wide, mouth half open in shock. I probably looked the same way, to tell you the truth. All around this strange girl who had probably just saved my cocky ass was an aura of pure, dark power. I recognized it instantly, as if the crack in the earth wasn't enough.

The girl I was looking at was a daughter of Hades. My half-sister.

All I could feel was shock, my mind reeling as I stared at this girl. How could this be possible? A sinking feeling hit my stomach, and I realized that even my father had broken the Oath not to have any more kids. I myself didn't count, as I technically was over 80 years old. Long story, don't ask. But what about her? She had to be… ten, maybe eleven, tops.

The girl shifted uncomfortably, probably nervous because of all my scrutiny. I probably would've been too, so I couldn't blame her. But I couldn't help but stare. _Sister. My little sister._

"Um," the girl stuttered, running a hand through her hair. "Hi?"

I snorted at the sheer absurdity of this conversation. Reaching out a hand to have her shake, I realized my sword was still out, and I quickly sheathed it. She took my hand. "Hi. Nico diAngelo. Assuming you're a demigod too, and not some sort of weird god?"

She laughed, sounding hauntingly like Bia… her. My heart ached painfully again. "Nah, I'm a half-blood, and I guess you are too. I'm Melaina, Melaina Achim."

"Pleasure to meet you, Melaina," I gave her as warm a smile as I could muster, but for all I knew, it could've come out as a grimace. "Do you know what you did out there?" She flushed, wringing her hands behind her back and looking down, face beet red.

"Um… sorta?" she made it sound like a question, and I sighed softly, turning to look at the ragged scar in the earth next to us. I flashed back to doing the exact same thing months ago in front of Percy at Camp, and felt guilt eat at me for a moment before I shoved it back, angrily. There was no time for that right now, not when my new sister might be in danger.

"Let's go to where I've set up camp," I suggested, nodding my head back the way I'd came. "Then we can….discuss what happened." She hesitated, before seeming to come to a conclusion, nodding back at me and following behind me cautiously, almost as if she was worried I was leading her into a trap. However, the fact that she followed me anyway meant that she was feeling this pull to me the same as I was to her. We were going to be important to each other, I could tell.

…

Hours later, we sat by the pathetic little campfire I'd managed to light. I'd managed to explain everything I could to Melaina, as well as answer a few questions she had. And then she had told me her story, and how she had run away from Percy as well. My fists clenched in the dirt on the ground as blood rushed in my veins. I was so furious at him. Words couldn't even describe it.

Next to me, Melaina sat with her knees up to her chest, staring unseeingly into the low flames, shivering in her jacket. I had no idea how to show affection for her, which was frustrating. I definitely felt it for her, I just couldn't figure out how to express it. I watched her out of the corner of my eyes as she bit her lip, hiding her face from me. In the eerily quiet woods, the sounds of her soft sniffles were loud and clear.

I tapped nervously at the ground, still unsure what to do. Bian- _she_, had always been the one to comfort _me_, whenever I was sad, hurt, or angry. I'd never had to comfort somebody else. This was all foreign territory to me, and I guess it was to her too, from what she told me. Basically an orphan, just like me. We had more in common than I'd originally thought.

I jumped a little as she gave a little sob, shoulders shaking as she tried to hold them back, probably out of embarrassment of crying in front of somebody she'd just met. She lost her battle though, bursting into tears and burying her face into her hands as she sobbed. Instantly, I scooted closer to her, slowly snaking an arm around her, just in case she told me to go away and stop touching her. To my relief, she leaned closer to me, and now braver, I wrapped both arms around herself, pulling her close to my chest. I could feel her tears dripping onto my shirt, but I really didn't care.

My heart raced. This was so new to me. Was this right? Was I doing this okay?

Slowly, I felt her begin to relax, but she made no move to get away from me, and so I held her tighter, supporting her as much as she was supporting me. I suddenly felt a strong, paternal need to kiss her tears away, and pressed my cold lips to her pale forehead, barely brushing them across it as she spoke.

"Nico?" her voice broke, and my heart went out to her. Not too long ago, that was me, but there was nobody to love me back when I needed it. I would always make sure somebody was here for Melaina. She was not going to experience what I had. Never. I swore it on the River Styx, just for good measure.

"Yeah?" I asked her, reaching out a shaking hand to push her hair out of her eyes, trying to will away the tears that gathered there away with sheer willpower. Her eyes closed, and a single tear floated down to land on my shoe.

"Can you sing to me?" I tensed up slightly, inhaling and exhaling sharply before closing my eyes. Instantly, I flashed back to a similar scene with _her_ singing to me, her voice high and lulling me to sleep our first night at Camp. Looking back now, I realized she must've guessed our parentage early, and kept it hidden, as her lyrics were too personal to be coincidental.

"Yeah," I whispered, still half in that memory. "Yeah, I got one song for you." Keeping my eyes closed, I mouthed the melody to myself, praying I wouldn't make a fool of myself, and began to sing.

"_Close your eyes… I know what you see. The darkness is high, and you're in ten feet deep,_" I took a shaky breath. "_But we've survived more terrible monsters than sleep…and you know I will be here to tell you to breathe._"

My maternal family was Italian, and having been raising in Italy for many years of my life, I was fluent in the language. Bianca was too, and she loved to speak it. It sounded better than creaky old English, she would joke to me, creating fluid rhymes and songs to sing me to sleep sometimes when I was scared.

"_Tu sei il mio soldatina…la ragione per cui vivo. Non ti scordar di me…io veglierò su di te_," I fought to keep my voice steady, willing back the tears as a memory of Bianca singing to me came back, her soprano drifting through my dreams sometimes. On my lap now, Melaina curled closer, keeping a death grip on me as if she was scared I would leave her.

Which would never happen, if I had any say.

"_Stumbling lost, the last choice of all that you meet. It's the cost of ruling those 'neath your feet_. _Paths you've crossed, and trust you're trying to keep…you're exhausted, listening for a voice that can't speak, ma nina, mia caro._" At the last moment, I changed the last line from my own name to "girl", trying to remember who I was singing to, the worn out, emotionally and physically, demigod in my lap.

"_Tu sei il mio soldatina…la ragione per cui vivo. Non ti scordar di me…io veglierò su di te_," As I finished the song on a haunting chord, my eyes fluttered open, and I looked down at the girl lying across my chest. She had fallen asleep, her face pressed into my chest, her breathing slow and steady. A small smile flitted across my face as her face relaxed into the contours of sleep. I couldn't help myself, and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek, vowing again that I would keep this girl safe at all costs.

**This scene is written from Melaina's point of view too, under a different name, "The Son of Hades". Check in my profile for the link if you are interested.**


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